


London Calling

by onlyastoryteller



Series: A Room For The Night [8]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Cozy Cottage, Light Angst, London, M/M, Shower Hijinks, naked cooking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-25 19:49:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20917607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyastoryteller/pseuds/onlyastoryteller
Summary: Armie and Timmy rent a cottage for Timmy’s first night in London, but Armie has bad news.





	London Calling

**Author's Note:**

> After watching events unfold this week, I was possessed to write this little installment. 
> 
> Of course this is 100% fiction. 
> 
> Except for the parts that aren’t. 
> 
> Much love to those of you on the ground on Thursday, this is dedicated to all of you.

_ Worry not _

_ Just let it flow _

_ It will get hot _

_ But a touch slow _

Timmy frowned at the embroidered sign posted on the wall next to the bathtub. Then he shrugged and pushed the flowery fabric shower curtain aside, examining the ceramic knobs on either side of the faucet. 

The pipes groaned ominously when he twisted the hot water knob all the way to the left. He hesitated before turning it back to the right a quarter inch, and was relieved when the groaning stopped. He held his hand under the shower spray for a full minute, but it remained ice cold. 

_ What did you expect, Chalamet? It’s an old house. _

Deciding the needlepoint instructions were serious, Timmy left the bathroom and ventured back down the short hall to the living area and the kitchen. A glance at the clock on the wall told him that despite the darkness it was early yet; he still had a while before Armie would be done with shooting for the day, and a while more before the man would make his way to the cottage they had rented for the night on the outskirts of London. 

With a sigh, he grabbed a beer out of the half-size refrigerator, cracked it open, and tipped it back. Then he wandered into the living room and sank onto the overstuffed sofa. 

He was glad he had decided to fly out immediately following the New York premiere for _ The King_. It had made for a long night, but he had slept on the plane, and as soon as they were wheels down on U.K. soil, the butterflies had begun their aerial dance in his stomach. 

That always — _ always _ — happened when Armie was near. 

It had been too long since they had seen each other. A couple of months, this time. When this happened, each time they had to be apart for so long, they swore it would never happen again. But, somehow, something always seemed to get in the way. Work, family, or...rules. Always the fucking rules. 

_ Don’t interact on social media, you need to distance yourselves in order to grow your separate careers. _

_ Don’t be seen together in public, because people talk. _

_ Don’t reference each other so much, let people forget. _

Timmy was sick of all of the shit. It was why he had issued his ultimatum to his team. He smiled, because, to his surprise, it had fucking _ worked_. Armie was going to be his plus one tomorrow, was going to walk the red carpet with him. For a minute, at least, it would feel like they could be a real couple, open to the world. He wasn’t about to get everything he wanted, but he was getting something, and he thought it might be enough. For now, at least. 

Unless...unless this time, too _ much _time had passed. What if talking on the phone and texting wasn’t enough to keep them connected? What if the jealousy he had heard in Armie’s voice after each round of publicity had taken root and made him bitter? What if...what if Armie walked into the cottage, took one look at him, and realized he simply didn’t care as much anymore?

Timmy peeled at the label on his bottle, biting the inside of his cheek. Thinking like that was stupid, he knew it was. And it was against their own rules, the ones they followed between them.

_What’s the rule?_ Timmy asked himself.

_Don’t overthink and assume the worst,_ he answered.

A little bit of distance hadn’t killed them yet, and it wouldn’t this time. 

Right?

Deciding he needed a distraction, and that maybe he had waited sufficient time for the water heater to start working its magic, Timmy downed the rest of his beer and returned to the bathroom. Steam was beginning to cloud the air and fog the mirror. He checked the water, and sure enough, it was good and hot. 

He stripped, leaving his clothes in a jumbled pile on the bathroom tile, and stepped into the shower. A whimper escaped as the water hit his shoulders and the heat began to seep into his bones. 

England was so much colder than New York. And Timmy was already perpetually cold. 

Suddenly unsure how _ long _the hot water would last, Timmy grabbed his shampoo and began to work up a lather. He closed his eyes and sighed, enjoying the feeling of getting clean after a long night/day of partying and travel. 

He was rinsing out the shampoo, and his mind was wandering pleasantly through memories of the black carpet in New York, when the shower curtain was yanked aside and another body— a large body — was crowding into his space. 

Timmy gasped in shock and then moaned as his body realized what was happening before his mind effectively clued in. Giant hands slid around his waist and a mouth attached itself to his neck. 

“Hi, gorgeous.” Armie’s voice vibrated against Timmy’s skin in between kisses. 

“Mmmmm.” Timmy arched backwards, relaxing against Armie’s chest. “You’re early. I thought you wouldn’t be here for a couple of hours at least.”

“I got out earlier than I thought,” Armie said. “Ken gave the all clear and I bounced. Thought you wouldn’t mind.”

“I don’t.” Timmy turned in Armie’s arms and slid his palms up Armie’s stomach and chest until they were cupping his jaw. He looked...like himself. Soft blue eyes, chiseled face. The character mustache was new, but otherwise…. “There you are,” he murmured, shivers of excitement coursing through him at finally laying eyes on his man in person. 

Armie ducked his head and captured Timmy’s lips, and everything in him settled. Any nerves he had been feeling, any insecurities, any doubts about the strength of their connection...gone, chased away by the soft press of lips, the slide of tongue, the feeling of _ home. _

Timmy deepened the kiss and moved into Armie, every inch of his skin aching for contact. Armie’s hands slid down from Timmy’s lower back to his hips and then his ass, squeezing gently. 

“You’re slippery,” Armie murmured, brushing his lips against Timmy’s. “I like that.”

He pulled Timmy tight against him, and as his cock went fully hard and pressed into Armie’s thigh, Timmy buried his face into Armie’s neck and let out a shivery breath. 

“Fuck,” he whispered. “Me. Please.”

“Already?” Armie asked. Timmy could tell he was grinning from the sound of his voice. “I just got here. We’ve barely had a chance to say hello.”

“Yes. Please.” Timmy ground his hips upward and gasped. 

“Aren’t you going to ask about my day? How the shoot is going? Tell me about your flight? The premiere last night?” Armie’s fingers dipped lightly into Timmy’s cleft and now he was pushing his hips backwards, seeking firmer contact. 

“No,” Timmy breathed. “Fuck first. Talk later.”

Armie sucked on Timmy’s ear, his mustache tickling the sensitive skin there. “So demanding,” he whispered. Then he gripped Timmy’s hips and pushed him away. 

“What—“ Timmy began, his anxiety flaring up again. 

With a smile, Armie picked up Timmy’s shower gel and poured a generous amount into his palm. “More. Slippery,” he said in explanation. 

Then his hands were all over Timmy, gliding up his chest, along his collarbones, bumping over his ribs and smoothing across his stomach. They skated up his back, down over his ass. Timmy could only stand there, pathetically clutching at Armie’s biceps, trying to remain upright while overwhelmed with sensation. 

It was always a shock to his system how much he wanted Armie. He always thought that over time, the intensity of need would fade, but...it never did. It had been three and a half years since he had started wanting this man, more than a year and a half since he had gotten him, and if anything what he felt was stronger now than ever. He wondered if it would always be like this, or if twenty years from now they’d be able to simply sit together without constantly craving more contact. 

Armie lifted Timmy’s chin up and kissed him gently, then spun him around to face the tile and pulled him to his chest. Timmy liked this Armie, the one who took what he wanted and used his size and strength to do it. It made him feel cherished and needed. 

He felt the desire coiling in his belly and moved to bend forward, but Armie snaked an arm around his shoulders and pulled him back. 

Timmy moaned as Armie’s fingers danced over his nipples, gliding smoothly around them and lightly pinching them each in turn. Armie’s other hand slid around his hip and straight to his cock, and Timmy whimpered and jerked as Armie began to stroke him lightly. 

“Please,” Timmy said. “I want you to—“

“Not yet.” Armie nuzzled into Timmy’s neck. “I told you, I just barely got here.”

“But—“

“What I want,” Armie said, kissing Timmy’s jaw, “is to take the edge off, for both of us. If I fuck you now, it’s going to last two minutes at most. We’ve waited so long, what’s a little longer? We’ve got all night, let’s take our time.”

His hand picked up speed, and Timmy gave in, letting his orgasm build. Armie was right, this wasn’t going to take long. He moaned as he felt Armie’s own cock slip between his cheeks, sliding back and forth along his ass in time with the rhythm of his hand. Everything tightened, and Timmy reached out wildly, looking for something to grab onto, the showerhead too far away, the curtain too flimsy, the tile too slick. 

“I’ve got you,” Armie breathed in his ear. “Let go.”

Timmy did. With a guttural cry, he exploded all over Armie’s hand, himself, and the tile. Pleasure coursed through him, and he whimpered his way through the aftershocks, as Armie cursed and Timmy felt Armie’s release sliding down the backs of his thighs. 

His legs shook, but true to his word, Armie had him. He let himself go limp, let Armie hold them both up, as his eyes drifted closed and he sighed. 

Armie chuckled. “You’ve been holding that in,” he whispered. 

“Mmmhmm,” Timmy said. It was true. He’d been hands off for a week, knowing he was going to see Armie. “You too?”

“Yeah.” Armie shifted behind him, and Timmy found his legs again. He managed to straighten up, and immediately swiveled around to take Armie’s face in his hands once more. 

“I like the mustache,” Timmy said, smiling, as he skimmed a thumb over the growth of hair on Armie’s upper lip. 

“Yeah? Should ‘70s porn star be my new look?” Armie nuzzled into Timmy’s palm and then kissed the pad of his thumb. 

“Well...maybe not. But it’s soft. Feels nice.” As if to prove it, he brushed his lips across it, slowly back and forth, enjoying the feeling of the hairs skimming across his skin. Armie made a sound that might have been a purr. 

The water cascading over them turned suddenly lukewarm, and Timmy tensed. 

“Shit,” he said. “We should rinse off before—“

They both yelped as the water went ice cold. Armie reached behind Timmy and twisted the knobs to the right, and the shower blessedly stopped. 

Shivering, Timmy yanked back the shower curtain and hopped out of the shower. “I guess this is as clean as we’re getting,” he said from between chattering teeth. 

“Here,” Armie grabbed a bath sheet from the pile on the counter, shook it out, and wrapped it around Timmy’s shoulders. He rubbed his hands briskly up and down Timmy’s arms until Timmy pushed him away to dry himself off. 

“It’s cold in here,” Timmy said. “I don’t think that’s just because of the water. I haven’t found the heat yet.”

“Actually,” Armie said, wrapping the towel around his waist and securing it with an expert tuck, “I saw the fireplace and firewood. Let’s make a fire.”

He strode out of the bathroom, and Timmy followed on damp soles, padding down the short hall to the living room. He hesitated in the archway, but Armie must have closed all of the drapes on his way in, because they were safe from prying eyes outside. 

Armie scooped up a handful of wood from the bundle in the corner, then crouched down in front of the fireplace, moving the screen to the side. He placed the wood on the grate in a complex structure, the smaller bits underneath and the larger logs on top. Then he grabbed a newspaper from under the tool rack, crumpled up a couple of pages, and pushed them under the entire stack. 

He glanced up to find Timmy peering over his shoulder. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, laughing. 

“Watching,” Timmy said. “So I can learn how.”

“You’ve never built a fire?”

Timmy shook his head. “I was supposed to in summer camp but I always got out of it.”

Armie frowned at him. “Why?”

“I don’t know. Because I could? There was always someone else who wanted to take their turn. What do you do next?” He gestured at the fireplace with his chin, still gripping the towel around his shoulders. 

“Now we light it.” Armie stood up and looked around, then huffed lightly in satisfaction when he located a box of fireplace matches on the mantle. He struck one, and held it to the newspaper until it caught. “And then we tend it until it catches.”

Timmy stood back and smiled, watching Armie’s back and shoulders flex as he bent towards the fledgling flame, poking the kindling into place until it caught and held. A drop of water escaped from Armie’s hair and slid down his neck before winding a path between the muscles of his back. 

Unable to resist, Timmy let go of his towel and reached out to catch the drop before it was soaked up by the towel still secured around Armie’s waist. Then he traced its path backwards up Armie’s back to his neck. Armie stilled under his touch, and then arched and hummed. 

Armie stood and returned the screen to the front of the fireplace. “That’ll be going good in a minute,” he said. Then he turned around and scooped Timmy off his feet. Timmy squeaked in surprise and then giggled as Armie carried him towards the sofa. He managed to get a hand between them and flick Armie’s towel open, sending it to the floor. 

They fell onto the sofa, Timmy cradled in Armie’s lap, and, as if by grand plan, immediately found each other’s mouths. They kissed for a long while, leisurely. Armie had definitely been right about taking the edge off in the shower, because these slow, deep, soulful kisses, the kind with no other goal in mind, were the kind Timmy liked best. When Armie kissed him like this, he felt like they were connected by an unbreakable strand that began somewhere in Armie’s core and ended somewhere in Timmy’s, and that the kissing was just their way of acknowledging that tie.

After a while, they paused, and Timmy rested his head against Armie’s neck. 

“Still cold?” Armie asked. 

Timmy shook his head. As Armie had predicted, the fire had reached a comfortable burn, flames licking up towards the chimney and radiating a warmth into the room. Plus, he was cuddled into the chest of someone who was basically a human furnace, held in a cocoon of drowsy desire. How could he be cold?

“So,” Timmy said, clearing his throat to get rid of some of the fog, “how is shooting going?”

“Good,” Armie said. “Ken is...well, he knows what he wants, let’s say. It makes my job a little easier because he’s pretty clear about it, too, if you can keep up with all of his references. And if you understand film and what he’s trying to accomplish.”

“Which you do,” Timmy said. He trailed a hand up Armie’s chest and played with the soft hair there. 

“Sometimes. Sometimes I can see it and other times I’m just...jumping in and hoping he can’t tell I’ve no clue what I’m doing.” Armie shrugged. “We’re getting on okay, so far.”

“Armie.” Timmy tugged sharply at the hair under his fingers. 

“Ow,” Armie said. 

“What’s the rule?” Timmy tugged again. 

Armie sighed. “Don’t pretend I suck.”

“Don’t pretend you suck,” Timmy confirmed. “Because you don’t.”

He tilted his head up and kissed Armie again. “I wish I could see you working. I miss seeing you work.”

“You could come by the set,” Armie said. “I could get you in.”

Timmy frowned. “You know I can’t. I’ve got interviews on Friday, and stuff on Saturday before I fly to Korea.”

“Come back after Australia.” Armie rubbed his hand across Timmy’s back in a large circle. “You’ll need a break.”

The idea was appealing. Maybe if he...but then he remembered. “I’m supposed to meet her in Paris after Australia.”

Armie tensed. “Oh. And how’s that going?”

“It’s...fine.” Timmy snuggled closer, knowing exactly why Armie was tense and wanting to reassure him. “She’s okay to be around, mostly. I left her having dinner with Joel tonight, got the pap photos on the way in, then snuck out to come here.” He snickered, remembering how he had pulled his hoodie over his head to “avoid” the shot. 

“So you haven’t had dinner either?” Armie asked. “Or did you grab something?”

“No, I kind of...forgot.” That was a lie. He had been too nervous to eat, feeling jittery about seeing Armie. But now he was feeling hungry. “We could order a pizza.”

“No need.” Armie stood and deposited Timmy on his feet. He looked excited, and proud. “Since I was going to be early, I came prepared, and I was hoping you hadn’t eaten.”

He moved across the room to the kitchen and rummaged in the refrigerator. Timmy was surprised to see that there was more in the tiny box than there had been an hour ago when he arrived and stuck the beer in there. He watched with curiosity as Armie pulled out something wrapped in white butcher paper, some butter, and a bag of something green. He set the items on the small counter on the dividing island beside the stove and then reached under the counter for a cloth bag. 

“Are you...going to _ make _ dinner?” Timmy asked. “Like, a real one?”

Armie shot him a look. “You say that like I’ve never made you dinner before.”

“Well…” Timmy hesitated, but then just went ahead and said it. “You’ve cooked food that I’ve eaten, but you haven’t really...made _ me _ dinner.”

“Sure I have.” Armie rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the mise en place he was creating with a row of spice jars and some potatoes. 

“No. Not really.”

It was true. When Timmy was living at the Hammer house, Armie had cooked plenty. And in Crema, a few times, he had taken over the kitchen duties at Luca’s. But he had never actually made dinner just for them. Usually, the time they stole together was in hotels, and they just ordered room service. 

Armie paused his unwrapping of the meat. “Really?”

“I mean...there are always other people around when you cook.” Timmy shrugged. “It isn’t…I didn’t mean to make it into a big deal.”

Only, it apparently was, because watching Armie assemble the food and cooking paraphernalia was making his chest hurt. 

Armie saw it, and was back across the room in a second, wrapping himself around Timmy. “I’m sorry,” he said. 

Timmy shook his head, blinking back the wetness that was stubbornly filling his eyes. “Shit. This is dumb. It’s really not...I’m not upset.”

“I get it,” Armie said. “It’s a normal thing that we don’t usually get to have.”

“I...yeah.” Timmy was grateful to Armie for expressing what he couldn’t. He pushed Armie away. “So go do it then, since we have it for once.”

Armie dropped a kiss on Timmy’s head and returned to the kitchen. Timmy retrieved his towel, wrapped it around his waist, and took a seat on a stool by the dividing island. He watched Armie move around between the stove, the sink, and the counter. He found a frying pan and set it on the stovetop, frowning at the flat disc burners and muttering something about electric heat. 

As Armie descended into a zone of focused concentration, slicing potatoes into disks and boiling water in a pot, Timmy’s gaze drifted over his chest and down to his stomach, to the trail of hair that descended south. He smiled. 

“Is this safe?” Timmy asked. 

Armie glanced up. “Is what safe?”

Timmy flapped a hand in the direction of the stove and the hot pan, where butter was melting and beginning to sizzle around the edges. “That. While you’re…”

“Naked?” Armie grinned. “Well...it’s not _ perfectly _ safe. It’s a little risky.” He picked up a handful of potato slices and, turning his hips to the left, laid them gently in the butter. He sprinkled them with salt and some greenish herb. “But you know, if you remember, I _ was _ named sexiest risk taker.”

“True.” Timmy giggled. “I mean that was a couple of years ago, but go ahead, rest on your laurels.”

Armie picked up a rogue potato slice and threw it at Timmy, who caught it neatly. 

“You could help,” Armie said, “instead of sitting there making fun.”

Timmy hopped off of the stool and Armie set him to washing and breaking up a head of broccoli and putting it in to steam. When the potatoes were done, Armie turned up the heat, laid the steak on the pan, and grunted in satisfaction at the sizzle. 

After rinsing his hands, Timmy stepped up behind Armie and palmed his ass. “You should _ really _do this more often,” he murmured, leaning close and placing a kiss between Armie’s shoulder blades. 

Armie reached behind him and took hold of Timmy’s hands, pulling them around his waist.

“When we live together, I’ll cook for you every night,” Armie said, stroking his hands over Timmy’s wrists. 

At Armie’s words, Timmy’s heart expanded. He sometimes fantasized about a life in which such a thing would be possible, but it was hard to believe it would ever come to pass. He rested his chin on Armie’s shoulder. “Yeah? Will you teach me so sometimes I can cook for you?”

Armie turned his head for a kiss. “It’ll happen, you know,” he said. “We’ll get there.”

“Will we?” Timmy asked. “When?”

With a sigh, Armie turned in Timmy’s arms and threaded his fingers through Timmy’s hair. 

“I...don’t know,” he said, and Timmy could hear the regret in his voice. He hated that it was there. He hated that he, too, couldn’t make promises. “But not too long. Things are wrapping up with the lawyers. We’ll announce the separation soon. And then...we just have to wait a bit, so that it doesn’t seem—“

“Armie.” Timmy leaned his forehead against Armie’s chest. “It took, like...all the bargaining chips I had to get permission for you to come with me to the premiere tomorrow night. I can’t even begin to figure out what it will take to...to…”

Armie went still, and Timmy tensed in response, looking up once more. 

“What?” he asked, almost afraid for Armie’s answer. 

“I’ve got...hang on,” Armie said. He turned and shut off the burner under the steak before turning back. “I’m really sorry, Tim. But I’m not going to be able to go with you tomorrow.”

Timmy went cold. “What?” he whispered. That couldn’t be right. He had been looking forward to this for _ weeks_. He had worked hard to make it happen, had had to agree to extra pap walks and ridiculous social media antics in order to set it up. “No.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t get away from the set. I thought maybe—“

His stomach twisting, Timmy pulled out from the circle of Armie’s arms and took three steps backwards, until he bumped up against the sink. 

“But we said — you were going to get the day. You were — it was set up.”

Armie raised his hands, palms out. Concern creased his face, and his eyes pleaded for understanding. “I know, but things changed. I can’t do anything about it. It’s not like—“

Timmy reached behind him, grabbed at the counter for support. “No. _ No. _ We haven’t seen each other for two _ months_. And I’m leaving in a couple of days and can’t come back and I just — I don’t know if I can keep...keep doing this.”

As Timmy spoke, Armie’s face fell. His shoulders slumped, his chin dropped to his chest, and when he spoke, his voice was quiet. 

“So you’ve had enough, then? You’re done? I took too long. I should have—”

Timmy’s heart thudded to a halt and then started up again. He sprang forward, grabbing at Armie’s face, pulling up his chin so he could catch his eye. 

“No, fuck you. I’m not _ done, _” he said, his voice breaking. “I’m not giving up. Are you?”

“Of course not,” Armie said, his arms coming up around Timmy again. “Never. But you said—“

“I was saying I can’t keep doing _ this. _ Going so long between visits, not being able to just be with you or even talk about you. It’s making me…” Timmy shook his head. “It makes me doubt us.”

“Timmy.” Armie’s voice went soft and warm, and then he lowered his head and placed his lips on Timmy’s. “Come on. You know better. What’s the rule?”

“Don’t assume the worst. But sometimes—“

“Shhhh. You know when I knew this thing between us was real? When I knew it wasn’t just some diversion, or temporary fling, but something worth fighting for?” Armie brushed Timmy’s curls off of his forehead. 

Timmy’s heart jumped again, beat faster. “When?” he asked. 

“The first night,” Armie said. He placed a kiss above each of Timmy’s eyebrows. “In Rome, when I came to your room. I was so fucking mad, and ranting, and you just…”

“I kissed you,” Timmy said, unable to help the grin that spread across his face at the memory. “To shut you up.”

“It worked. Because I was so surprised...and also, completely unsurprised, like _ fucking finally_.” 

“You really knew then? That we were something?”

“No, I knew we were _ everything_.” Armie smiled fondly. “It may have taken me a while to get up the guts to tell Elizabeth we were through, but...that was mainly because I was trying to figure out how _ you _ felt.” 

“How I felt? I was...from the beginning. From the piano lesson, I wanted us.”

“I know that now,” Armie said. “And you’re not the only one who wanted that. But I shoved it down, figured I was just being an idiot. I was married, you were young, and definitely not interested in someone like me.”

Timmy pinched Armie’s side. “What’s the rule?”

“Don’t put myself down. But I didn’t mean it like that, just like...I was older, and married, and probably annoying—“

“Armie.”

“Fine,” Armie rolled his eyes. “The point of this all is that I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you. So no matter how long we’re apart, that’s not going to change.”

“For me either,” Timmy said. 

“So what if I can’t come tomorrow? I’ll come to another one. To every other one, because there will be hundreds. Thousands.”

“Thousands?” Timmy murmured. 

“Thousands. I’ll come to them all. And not just as a friend. Timmy, we’ll get there, I promise. Just...don’t give up on us. _ Please_.”

Timmy surged up and latched onto Armie’s mouth, kissing him with every desperate ounce of what he was feeling. Armie’s hands moved down Timmy’s body, looped around his hips, and lifted him up. Timmy’s legs came up around Armie’s waist, and Armie carried him down the hall and into the bedroom. 

“What about dinner?” Timmy asked, as Armie lowered him to the bed and yanked his towel away. 

“It’ll reheat,” Armie said into Timmy’s mouth. 

They moved together in unison, without needing any further discussion. Armie kissed his way down Timmy’s neck, licking and sucking lightly before moving on to his chest and giving it the same treatment. Timmy shivered and arched into the touch, desire sparking in all of his nerve endings. 

When Armie reached Timmy’s stomach, he dipped his tongue in and out of Timmy’s navel before dragging his lips further down. Timmy’s legs fell apart, and he took short breaths of anticipation, waiting for what was to come. 

He didn’t have to wait long, as Armie licked his way up the underside of Timmy’s cock before sheathing it in his mouth. Timmy moaned at the sensation of wet heat, bucking up into Armie’s face without restraint. 

Timmy was so overwhelmed that he almost didn’t realize when Armie disappeared for a moment. He definitely realized when Armie’s fingers began to work in and out of him, opening him up and sending shocks of pleasure through his veins. 

When Armie was finally inside him, it was as it always was between them: everything and not enough all at once. He grabbed at Armie’s hips and shoulders, pulling him as close as possible, feeling like he wanted to crawl inside his chest and _ become _ Armie as much as he wanted Armie to do the same to him. 

Afterwards, they lay in each other’s arms, kissing sleepily. 

“I’m sorry about tomorrow,” Armie murmured behind Timmy’s ear. “I did try.”

“I don’t care about tomorrow,” Timmy said. “You’re right. It would have been awesome, but there will be more red carpets, you’ll come to those. And I’ll come to yours.”

“I can come back to London Friday night,” Armie said. “After shooting.”

“That’s a lot of traveling back and forth,” Timmy said. 

“So fucking what? It’ll be worth it. Hughie will drive. I can sleep. Then we’ll have that at least.”

Timmy snuggled into Armie with a sigh. “I’m gonna tell everyone it was supposed to be you. There with me,” he said. 

“Good.” 

Timmy felt himself drifting, and gave himself a shake. 

“What was that?” Armie chuckled. 

“Don’t want to fall asleep,” Timmy mumbled, falling asleep. 

“Sleep a little. I’ll wake you up, we’ll have dinner, and we’ll come right back here.”

“Okay. Armie?”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s not do this again. Wait so long. I know we say it every time, but it seems like there’s always something, and it’s getting longer and long —“

“Want to make a new rule?” Armie nuzzled into the Timmy’s neck. 

“What kind of rule?”

“Let’s say...three weeks is our limit. We don’t go more than three weeks, and then we drop everything.”

Timmy smiled. “Yeah. Drop everything. I like that.”

He drifted off with his lips on Armie’s cheek. 

* * *

“Hey Timmy, are you going to Armie’s film tomorrow?”

Timmy looked up from what he was signing and grinned at the woman who gave him the opening he wanted. 

“No, but he was supposed to be here tonight. But he was shooting. He was going to jump out of the car with me…”

**Author's Note:**

> I’m onlyastoryteller on Tumblr if you need to yell at me.


End file.
